Red Like Roses
by xXMethereaperXx
Summary: Martin Light, a troubled youth caught in crime. Money, Murder, whatever it took. After the death of Lucy, something inside him died with her. Revenge led him to Sword and Cross. Crystal Pierce thought she was normal. Her parents thought otherwise, having abandoned her at Sword and Cross to avoid the publicity of a defective daughter hurting their election. How will they survive? AU
1. Prologue

This story was supposed to be original, but the more i think about it, it's closer to this story.

Anyway, plot begins a little different, has some of the same elements, but for the most part new. Some of the less important characters will appear, but not Luce or Daniel... yet.

Well, enough stalling, let's get on with it.

* * *

They sprinted around the corner, both struggling to stay ahead of the other.

Martin winced at the sound of the .40 beside him.

"It went through it!" the voice beside him yelled, more panicked than fatigued.

Martin's guitar bag bounced into the back of his head, tangling his long, black hair into the zipper. He turned his head sharply and dislodged the tangle, yelping from the sharp pain he felt. When he had turned his head he caught another glimpse of the attacker.

He was black. Not skin color or race, none of which was discernible, but his entire being. An entity of pure blackness. All that was visible amid him was his large, white eyes lacking the pupils and irises.

Martin yelled for Rodney to keep going and turned to focus completely on the figure. He waited, raising 'Namira', a chrome plated 1911. The inscription on the side read, 'May this protect you for when I can't, Lucy.'

'Let's hope it will,' he thought as he took aim at the figure slowly approaching him.

Holding his breath, he fired three times, the first two phasing through the figure's torso. The third, however, caught the upper left area of the right eye. It reeled backwards and collapsed.

Martin lowered the weapon and heard Rodney's footsteps slow to a stop farther down the sidewalk.

The figure sat for a moment while Martin struggled against the cliché of going to confirm the kill.

After a short time, it struggled to a sitting position and looked at him. The right eye was cracked like a piece of glass and flickered like a TV screen stuck on static.

A burst of fear crept it's way up his spine, giving him the strength to turn and resume fleeing. Rodney followed his lead and they turned another corner into the parking lot of a bar.

'Ruggy's Rugged Bar and Grill' informed the faded neon sign, though they were more than familiar with the establishment. Even being sixteen, the right connections could get you anything.

They hurried down the rows of parked cars, looking over their shoulders to ensure the bouncer or Thing wasn't in sight.

Rodney tried the door of a compact hatch back and found it unlocked. He hopped in the seat and began to remove the panel beneath the steering wheel.

"Wait," Martin said, pointing to the instrument cluster.

The fuel gauge was about a quarter tank. Rule one of stealing cars, make sure there was plenty of gas. If stealing to sell, you don't put your own money into the car. If stealing for escape, be prepared for a long drive.

Sighing, Rodney climbed out of the car and they continued the search.

Martin glanced at the cars he passed, trying to remain hidden while also checking for their stalker. Every second, he waited to see the shadow turn the corner and continue the chase.

It didn't.

"Aw, hell no," Martin heard Rodney yell from across the lot, "Martin, get over here!"

Martin ran to where he was standing and looked at the car sitting by itself.

"No."

"Come on, it's perfect." Rodney replied with a shove.

Martin looked it over again, and after nearly a minute he shook his head, "No."

Rodney sighed loudly, "Look, the keys are right there in the visor. If we're careful, we could sell it to Black."

Knowing they didn't have a choice, Martin walked towards it and opened the door, "Man, I hate Fords."

[][][]

The Mustang rumbled loudly as they sped through the now vacant industrial district heading back to where they called home.

Martin shifted into fourth and maintained five above the speed limit.

The number of street lights increased the closer they came to the suburbs. The lights shimmered off the metallic blue of the stripes over the pearl white body.

After a good deal of silence, Rodney looked away from the passenger window and looked around the interior, "This thing's in great shape, we should make quite a bit off of it."

Martin showed no sign of hearing him. He sat with his right hand on the steering wheel, and he head leaning against his left which was resting on the top of the door.

Rodney looked through the back window and returned to the passenger window, seeing no sign of the creature.

Martin looked into the rearview mirror then hit the left turn signal suddenly, as if just making the decision. Taking the corner around sixty, the rear end slid violently, but through a combined effort of oversteer and down shifting he maintained control.

"Change of plans?" Rodney asked, removing his grip from the dashboard.

Martin looked in the mirror, then returned to the road ahead, "We'll drop the car off at Black's then I can pay you for your help."

"It's not a big deal,"

"It is a big deal," Martin said coldly, "It's my fight, I should of took care of it myself."

"Relax, I'm glad you asked me for help. This isn't the kind of thing you do yourself. You're not a neutral anymore."

Martin's vision wavered to the fingers of his left hand, taking several blinks to return it to the rapidly moving pavement.

'That's right,' he thought, 'Just worry about what needs to be done.'

[][][]

Martin walked through the door of the cluttered garage and into the cold autumn air. His breath hung as vapor while he counted the large stack of money Black generously gave him for the Mustang. He pulled his hoodie back on and pulled the keys to the new vehicle from the pocket.

He remarked on the scythe sewn into the front that matched the large one on the back for a moment, the emblem new to him.

He reached the Honda hatch where Rodney had already pulled the for sale sign from the window. In the cold air, Rodney's dark skin was pale and he hunched near the passenger door.

Martin held out the stack of cash, holding on to a small portion for gas. Rodney didn't reach out for it.

"Unlock the door," was his reply.

Martin continued holding out the money and leaned his guitar bag against the quarter panel.

"Come on, it's freezing!"

Martin gave it a wave.

Rodney sighed and took the money he was offered. Martin hit the unlock button and he quickly found refuge while Martin put his bag in the back.

Martin climbed behind the wheel and they left the lot in a flurry of spinning gravel.

[][][]

They sat in the warmness of the car at the curb to the house Rodney was staying at.

"So, what after all this is finished?"

Martin shrugged, "Didn't think it out that far. Honestly, I didn't think I'd make it this far."

Rodney nodded and opened the door, "We'll figure that out."

Martin didn't bother waiting to make sure he made it inside. Rodney had a plan for everything, if he didn't have his keys, he'd find another way in.

Martin threw the car in gear, keeping the engine revved lower than usual to avoid waking the neighbors with the loud exhaust. Once clear of the neighborhood, he cranked the stereo, listening to the heavy thump from the speakers in back. With every rattle of sound, he felt his mind clear a bit.

After a few minutes of driving he found himself stuck at a red light on the corner between a pawn shop and liquor store. Making sure there was no oncoming traffic, he turned right and continued until he came across a gas station.

After pre-paying and starting the pump, he leaned against the car and pulled a small notebook from his pocket.

He counted the pages and opened it to the fourteenth page and pulled the pen from the binding. He reached absently for the pocket where he used to keep his cigarettes and found it empty.

Sighing, he used the pen to cross off three names on the list written on the page. There were four more left uncrossed out and four prior to the three were already crossed out.

He turned the page to where three other names were listed, and wrote in another four, circling the last name.

"Victor Conroy," the name tasted bitter leaving his mouth.

He flipped through the pages and came to where a picture was glued in. He had turned to the page so many times that the binding was worn down where the page was attached. He remembered where they took the picture though it had been years ago. He remembered because it was one of the few times he smiled for a picture.

It was a Halloween party at the beach near the city, and the background was full of monsters and other creatures of the night.

He was in a black shirt with MAW written across the top. His black jeans were torn around the knees and worn to threads in others. His hair was just as black and long as it was now, and just as unruly.

'Go as Jim Morrison,' she had suggested.

The woman beside him was every bit his equal. Long black hair, wearing an old Victorian style dress more flamboyant than many of similar design. As with most of the pages in the back of the notebook, the picture was ruined by smears of dried blood covering her face on the picture.

For nearly the hundredth time, he tried smear the blood away and reveal the beauty beneath, and was likewise unsuccessful.

A gust of wind caught the picture and tore it out of the book. He followed it for a moment, not yet sure enough it happened to leave his spot beside the pump. It floated through the air to the far side of the parking lot. The area was completely dark and he lost sight of it. There was suddenly a bright, glowing form that caught the picture.

His mouth hung open as the pump clicked off.

The light took on the form of Lucy, standing in her black and red skirt and black jacket. Her eyes were as large and red as ever. She was the only person he'd seen with red irises.

"They're red, like roses," he remembered saying.

She looked to the picture she was holding, then back to where he stood. She remained for a moment before disappearing completely. In her place, two headlights flickered to life.

He looked at the emblem on his hoodie.

"Damn it!" he yelled, throwing the gas cap on and jumping into the driver seat. He heard the tires squealing as he fumbled for the keys.

He jolted forward into the steering wheel as the rear end was slammed into. His head bounced off the steering wheel, slamming into the windshield. He fell back in a daze, the shattered window tilting and tumbling through his confusion.

He managed to glance at the side mirror in time to see someone exit the car and pull a rifle through the back window. He heard another car door, meaning more than one attacker.

He felt in the passenger seat for Namira, but felt nothing but empty seat. Assuming the jolt sent it to the floor, he slid as far as he could and grasped something metallic.

They were just about at the window.

He pulled it up and fired as soon as they came into view.

The attacker he hit took about the entire magazine to bring down. He disappeared from view and he heard the rifle clatter to the pavement.

At hearing the shots, the second attacker dove for cover, giving Martin time to start the car and speed away.

Two blocks away, he looked in the rear-view mirror and seen the headlights from an late model sedan slide into the street. He gave the little car all it had, but it was no match against the V-8 chasing him.

He felt the nudge from behind as he dropped his magazine and removed the three remaining shells. He slid in the full one, and dropped the shells into his pocket.

Another nudge.

The damage to the rear end must have been worse than he'd thought, because the car would not increase it's speed anymore. It felt as if the emergency brakes were locked slightly.

He rocketed down the street, holding steady at ninety. The shops he passed were all dark and gated. Gunshots began to riddle the back of his car. He looked down at the steering wheel, seeing the buttons for the first time, assuming Black hadn't at all since he was charged for nitrous.

He used the butt of his gun to smash the console around the lever for the emergency brake until the cable was visible. He looked away and put the barrel against it. He pulled the trigger, feeling a sudden increase in speed. He threw the shifter into fifth and hit the buttons.

The car's tires chirped, even at this high of speed and he was instantly pulling away from the pursuers. He seen the headlights of a patrol car ahead, beneath the only streetlight on the dark road.

He flipped the switch for the lights and flew past the officer who hadn't seen him. When the sedan flew by, his lights began flashing and he joined the chase.

Martin was beginning to lose his grip on the steering wheel, so he let go of the buttons. The car slowed down, but remained well in the triple digits. He swung into the first corner he found, and continued on his way to the city.

In his mirror, he seen the sedan pass with the officer on his tail.

Martin slowed down and flipped his lights back on.

"That went well," he thought, relieved that home was near.

Suddenly, his vision began to shake and he had to slow down to keep from veering across the road. There were more flashing lights from behind him, and he sped up to attempt an escape. He slid around another corner to find a full roadblock waiting for him, complete with armored swat members.

Slamming on the brakes, he came to a stop in front of them.

"Martin Light, get out of the vehicle with your hands up!"

He heard the voices, but it sounded miles away.

"This is your last warning!"

'Bullshit,' he thought and threw the shifter into reverse.

The tires squealed as they struggled for traction and he looked through the missing rear window.

"Bring him down!"

He dropped under the dashboard, seeking shelter from the semi-lethal rounds barraging the front of the car. He felt himself get splashed with some kind of fluid from the engine, as an real round fired by an expert sniper found it's way into the cabin. When he looked down, he could see the fluid was blood.

He was amazed at the pain he felt. It was enough to hurt but not enough to kill. Their marksman was good, didn't hit anything vital.

The car lurched to a stop as it found it's way into something heavier and refused to move.

Through the smoke pouring from the front of the engine, he saw figures rushing toward him. He reached beside him shakily and grasped his fingers around Namira. Through his heart beat that rumbled inside his head, he heard something similar to, 'Drop It!'

He swung towards the window as a round entered his arm, causing him to drop the gun.

His vision exploded into a flurry of colors and shapes as he teetered on the brink of consciousness.

"Oh well," was all he could make out before everything went black.

* * *

Not a bad prologue, I think.

Next chapter, we'll find out where he ends up.

Thanks for reading.


	2. 1 Comfortably Numb

Alright, chapter 1. Let's see if I can get the point across without failing.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Comfortably Numb**

_The child is grown__  
The dream is gone  
__And I have become  
Comfortably numb_

-Pink Floyd, Comfortably Numb

**[][][]**

For awhile, I was floating. I didn't see anything, not that I wanted to. I didn't hear much, there was some yelling, a lot of it actually, but I couldn't make out what they were saying.

The voices were gone, the ones in my head, and I was glad for the moment I had to relax. They'll be back though, they always come back.

Where was I? That's right, I was floating. I felt I was being moved, but it was more of a fluid motion, not the jostling I'm sure it was. There was a repetitive sound I couldn't place. It was the same two notes over and over again for a long time.

Eventually I felt I was being moved again. Everything was dark, I think I was dead, but I didn't see Lucy anywhere. Maybe I'll see her soon, she just has to find me, because I can't move at all.

There were more voices, they seemed more panicked, or nervous. After a while, the shouting began to become clearer.

"Hurry we're losing him!"

"Clear!"

After that, I was suddenly pulled out of my floating dimension, and jolted back into reality amid frantic beeping, yelling, and pain.

A second later, I was floating again.

"Nothing, hit'em again!"

"Clear!"

Back in, back out.

Maybe I was really dead.

"Pushing Epinephrine, 50cc's."

"Clear!"

Back in, back out.

"Last chance, pushing 100cc's!"

"Clear!"

This time, I stayed. Figures, I couldn't get that lucky.

"He's stabilizing, begin the transfusion."

My vision started to return and I could faintly make out the room I was in. There were doctors wearing masks, blood covering the front of their scrubs.

I felt the prick of an IV and looked over to see a nurse hand a bag full of the reddest blood I'd seen. Surprised they found my type anywhere, except I knew where they found it. If I read the tag I'm sure it'd say Lucy White. Funny, even in death she's saving my life…

"He's coming around,"

I looked to my right to see the doctor remove his mask. He had what a typical surgeon face, one from a daytime soap opera, and the black hair to match. I had trouble focusing on the details of his face, but I'm sure they were ordinary.

He leaned down and pointed the brightest flashlight I'd ever seen in my face. I blinked several times, but it did nothing to lessen the pain.

He pulled the light away and left me staring blankly at the colors and dots that filled my vision.

"I'd say you're lucky, but really you aren't."

He dropped his mask into a bin next to the table and began to remove his gloves.

"Yeah, I'd take my time recovering if I were you. Soon as you're able, you'll be out of here, and sitting in a cell."

He left, thank god. Was beginning to get tired of his comedy routine. I looked over and noticed my clothes were hanging from a hook near the door. Seeing the size of the holes in the hoodie, I decided looking down might be a bad idea.

The nurse changed the blood bag with another then ran a second one with a clear liquid. I couldn't make out the name on the bag, but the second she opened the drip, my vision began to tilt back and forth and the colors of the room seemed to grow brighter.

Even the pain began to fade.

I was left alone in the room, hooked to a monitor that continually beeped. I drifted in and out of consciousness, I assumed it was a side effect from whatever they'd given me. I awoke once to find myself in a new room. The curtains were drawn and an almost pure white light entering the room.

I drifted off once more, only this time when I awoke the room was almost pitch black. When my eyes adjusted, I saw the floating orbs of light in the corner. I knew by their height they were the eyes of the creature that chased me and Rodney.

It's body was at least three shades darker than the darkness in the room.

I began to panic. I was too drugged up to notice until the nurse came in the room. I looked at the monitor and it was flashing a code along the top.

The nurse that came in was talking on her phone and could care less. She adjusted the level on the drip and walked out of the room. My vision shook violently, and I lost consciousness. When I awoke the figure was gone and the light returned.

I did my best to stay awake. I rode the high the drugs gave me as long as I could. Everything around me was moving in fast forward, only me and the clock on the wall remained normal.

A week passed in this manner, then I was informed I'd be discharged to appear on trial.

I was glad to be leaving here.

**[][][]**

"I find you innocent of all charges against you, however you have been charged with contempt, and must serve thirty days in county correctional."

It'd be great if that was me, wouldn't it?

The judge slammed his gavel hard enough that I heard it in the hallway where I was waiting.

The doors opened and an naturally angry teen being walked out in handcuffs. The tattoo on his neck revealed he was a Reaper, then I recognized him.

"Martin, how's it going?" he said, bumping my fists.

"Been better, Franco."

"In and out?" he asked, nodding towards the courtroom.

The voices were coming back.

"Na," I said, "Not this time."

He gave me a strange look, "You talk to Seth?"

I shook my head, "Na, this doesn't have anything to do with him. Figured I'd save him the hassle."

He shook his head, "I'll talk to him when I see him. He might be able to help."

"I think this is the end for me."

"It's only the end if you accept it," he said as the guard began to drag him away.

"It's the end," I mumbled as the Bailiff walked into the hallway.

"The court will now hear the case of Martin Light vs. the city of Haven."

I was walked down the aisle in leg restraints, handcuffs, and an orange jumpsuit. It was as if everyone in the room had never seen a criminal before. I was told to stand in front of the table where my lawyer was already seated, not that he was needed.

"I will now read you your charges."

Now that I could see him, his voice was comical. He had a deep voice with a southern drawl. His face was puckered up and he wore a monocle in his right eye. He was struggling to look over his large, white moustache to read the paper in front of him.

"Three counts, grand theft auto. One count, destruction of property. One count, assault with a deadly weapon. Three counts, extortion. Four counts, attempted murder of law officers. And fifty one counts, first second and third degree murder."

Seemed like a low count.

"Do you contest the charges against you?"

"Yes I do, sir. May I see a list of the charges?"

The judge nodded, and the bailiff passed the list to my lawyer he slid it to where I could see it. I leaned over the table, counting the names of the murders.

"There is three missing from this list," I said, pointing to the murders, "James Van Pierce, Karloe "King" Rimes, and Sonny Leun."

The judge watched me for a second, unsure if I was joking or serious. Seeing no change in my demeanor he nodded and the list was returned and edited.

"Now, do you contest the charges against you?"

"No."

"You understand if you don't contest these charges you can't claim false trial, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

He nodded, "Do you plead guilty to the charges against you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, you may take your seat."

I sat beside my lawyer who was slouched in his chair with his arms crossed. It was nearly half an hour before the judge made his ruling.

After reviewing the case and closing the folder, he rested his elbows on his bench and entwined his fingers. He spent nearly ten minutes looking at me behind his big, stupid, monocle before speaking.

"I commend you for taking responsibility for your crimes, Martin Light. However, you strike me as a cold, young man. You are a danger to society and everyone in it. It's appalling that at this age someone your age possesses the lack of conscience to be a contract killer."

He shook his head.

"I'm afraid I can't take the risk of a repeat offence, so you will be tried as an adult. I sentence you to life in Shawshank penitentiary with parole hearings set at thirty years."

Before he swung his gavel, a voice nearby stopped him, "If I may, your honor."

Everyone looked to where the man who spoke was standing. He wore a white suit with black pinstripes. His hair was long and yellow, slightly darker than his moustache.

"Leon? What brings you here today? I trust you've been well."

He smiled, "I've been fine. May we speak in private, your honor?"

**[][][]**

Thirty minutes, and twenty games of Tic-Tac-Toe, the judge and Leon returned from the back room laughing at some joke they had made.

Leon walked around the bench and toward the aisle. As he passed he gave me a smile and a polite nod.

When the judge was seated again, he sighed heavily and leaned forward in his chair.

"That man, Leon White, has convinced me there is some good to be found in you."

White? I turned quickly to catch a last glance, but he was already out of the courtroom and somewhere further down the hall.

"He is the headmaster at Sword and Cross reformatory school. Wherein I am against it, it being a minimum security facility, I assured him that if you slip once, even the smallest mistake, you will be sent to real prison for the rest of your days, understood?"

Where did I want to go? Reform school, or prison.

I nodded.

"Okay, I sentence you to remain at Sword and Cross until you are deemed rehabilitated. Which very well may be life."

He swung his gavel, and that was that.

**[][][]**

I stood at the doorway of my uncle's house, the place I lived since my parents kicked me out with him. He liked the idea of having someone at his house while he was away on work or vacation, so he took me in.

"In and out," said the officer hiding behind his sunglasses, "Don't try anything funny. Take only what you need."

I nodded and opened the door, the most important of my possessions, my hoodie and guitar were already in the trunk. The cold air was seeping through the holes in my shirt and jeans, so I was relieved when I entered to find the heater was still on.

I avoided the chalk outline in kitchen. It's white lines going around her hair creating a halo of chalk.

I jumped the stairs, two at a time eager to get out of there. I could hear the officer's footsteps on the stairs as I opened my door. I stepped into my room and grabbed my backpack from the closet. I threw all my clothes inside.

The officer was watching me very carefully. I threw in the tool kit for my guitar and he didn't say anything. I unplugged the charger for my phone from the wall and threw it in a pouch on the side, doing the same with my laptop charger.

After turning the computer, I slid it inside another main pouch and zipped it up. I pulled down the cigar box in my closet, careful to open it so the officer couldn't see inside.

I pushed aside the small bag of marijuana I kept stored and grabbed the large stack of cash hidden. I slid this stack and another I had hidden into my pocket, and tossed the rest into the bag, not caring if he saw it.

"They say crime never pays." I said, hoping to distract him.

He scoffed and shook his head. I put the box back in the closet and pulled down the bottle Kentucky Red Eye. I looked at it for a moment.

"Do you mind?"

He shook his head, "Gonna be a long time before you see it again."

I popped the cap and gulped the liquor down. I felt the burn travel down my throat and sit in my chest. It did more to warm me than the heater.

"You about finished?"

I gave the room a final look over.

I seen the small box on the dresser. I slowly picked it up and opened it to look at the ring inside. A large diamond that used to be surrounded by shards of sapphire. They had broken off and were stuck inside of some punk's face.

I closed the box and added it to my pocket.

* * *

Alright here it is. Let me know if you like it so far.

Thanks for reading.


End file.
